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The Story of Esme

How it began. How it happened. How it ended and how it was revived. A look into the life of Esme Cullen.

This is my first attempt at writing more than just a short story. I have always loved Esme and she is one of my favorite characters in Twilight so i jus thad to tell her story the way I've imagined it.

18. Chapter 18

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For the next two or so months, I stayed with Lillian, Tom, and their children, Jonathan and Beatrice, sleeping in a spare bedroom on the third floor of their home. It was comfortable staying with them and I grew quite attached to the two little ones, taking them to a nearby park every afternoon after work and reading stories to them as we lay underneath the trees. I was still getting sick in the mornings but in a way, I considered it worth it. After all, the ends would have undoubtedly justified the means. I was about to be a mother, though I would be the child’s only parent. But then again, if Charles was the father God had in mind to help raise my child, I didn’t mind one bit. We would be fine. We would. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

Though Lily insisted that it was unnecessary for me to, I worked in her tailoring shop during the days to pay for my room and board. She’d told me that I wasn’t a burden and that I wasn’t imposing, but I still felt the need to do something to make up for everything. They had taken me in when I needed them most and I had to thank them in some way for that. And it wasn’t like the job was difficult. In fact, it was down right simple considering that I acted as the receptionist, taking orders and making appointments for customers to come in for assessments with Lily. All I did was sit in a chair all day and watch my belly grow a little bump. I felt safe. I felt content. I felt free.

Ever night as I dozed off, I would sing to my baby. Now, I’ll admit, I didn’t have the greatest singing voice but it wasn’t terrible. I made up lullabies and songs, singing them as I rubbed my abdomen. It was peaceful and I felt such a powerful connection to this thing inside my womb. I had never met it. I had never seen it. Yet I loved it with all of my being. It was the strangest thing yet it felt so completely natural. I was pregnant. I was going to have a child. My child. And everything was going to be okay…but then I got the letter.

Dear Esme,

What have you done? I don’t understand what compelled you to drug your husband and leave the city as well as your home. I don’t understand how bad things could be. Life is not easy no matter what situation you are in but you must own up and execute your responsibilities no matter what. Charles is furious. I am furious. We are all furious. Why would you do this to us?

It’s no matter. Charles is going to come for you and bring you home. He’ll be leaving within the next few days so expect him by Sunday morning. I hope to see you come to your senses and rethink everything you have done and put us through in the past two months. I love you, Esme, not matter what your choices are. Hopefully, you can fix this once Charles arrives. I know you will do what is best not just for you, but also for us all.


Your Mother

Sunday morning, I thought. What day is it today?

Immediately I checked the calendar and went white at what it said.

Today way Sunday.

I’d never packed so quickly in all my life. Lillian, Tom, and the children had gone to church and breakfast for the morning so I was left alone in the house. And I had no idea when Charles would arrive. It was already almost seven-o’clock so I didn’t have much time. In the midst of stuffing my clothing into my suitcase, I heard a fist pounding on the door. I think my heart stopped beating as I heard a familiar voice yell through the front door.

“ESME!” Charles roared, pounding on the door again. “Esme, open this goddamned door or I’ll break it down myself!”

I could hear the anger in his voice and knew that if he got near me, I’d be lucky to get out alive. I had to leave and I had to leave now.

I latched my luggage and ran to the spot where I had hidden the money I’d saved up along with the money I’d taken from Charles when I’d left Columbus. It was a grand total of three hundred dollars and it would easily help me escape. But the first thing to do was to just get out of the house and away from my husband. There was a back door that went through the small garden behind the building and I took it, praying to God that I would get away in time. But just as I was opening the back gate that opened up into the street, he grabbed me by the hair and threw me back into the yard, the thorns of the roses I fell into digging into my skin and making small scratch marks all over.

He said nothing as he sauntered over to beat me senseless if not kill me. I’d never seen him this angry and I knew that if I didn’t do something, my baby would die like my first one: before being even brought into the world. I had taken the abuse before; that was for sure. And I had survived. But this was different. It wasn’t just my life that was being hurt by this tormenter. It was also the life of my child. I’d had enough of his cruelty and maltreatment. For years I had endured it and I was sick and tired.

For once, I decided, I was going to fight back.

I began crawling away from him, somehow getting onto my feet before he reached me. I kept backing up until I was against the wall. There was nowhere to go.

“You are in for it, little girl,” he snarled, eyes blazing with blinding fury. “I’ll make you wish you were dead when I’m done with you.”

Then he added, “And I will turn you into the obedient wife you were meant to be. The one you will be.”

I tried to reach to my sides for anything to defend myself with. There was nothing. So I sidestepped a few feet until I felt the side of the small shed. By a miracle, my hands wrapped around the handle of a shovel, gripping it tightly. Charles continued to approach, not seeing what my hands had discovered, and when he got close enough, I swung the shovel and whacked him across the face, throwing him to the ground. My rage was evident in my burning with the memories of the beatings and the rapes and the things he took away from me. My happiness. My trust in others. My very freedom. All of the anger that had been building since the first bruise appeared was poured out onto him as I hit him repeatedly with the shovel. His hands were up in defense and he was pleading with me to stop.

“For years I have succumbed to your fists. I have done everything you wanted and more. I have tried to convince myself that maybe I deserved it. But no more, Charles. No more.”

Holding the handle of the shovel, I pointed the sharper end towards him and narrowed my eyes.

“You own me no more,” I said simply but with conviction.

And with that, I hit him once more on the head, knocking him out. I grabbed some rope from the shed and tied him up to the fencepost to make sure Lillian would see him when she returned home and to make sure he would get what was coming for him. In the meantime, I didn’t tell anyone anything. I boarded a train with the only ticket I could get that early on Sundays. I’d never been to Ashland but I didn’t care about my lack of familiarity. It was away from the bad memories, Charles, my parents, and everything else that I had dealt with through out my life. But I was rebelling, taking off and never coming back. For once in my life, I was taking control and, surprisingly enough, I wasn’t scared one bit. In fact, I felt more courageous than I’d ever felt in my entire existence on the planet having stood up to Charles.

I was on my own and I was going to make it. I was going to survive.